


Intervention

by MusicalKitten



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Drama, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Gen, I wish this conversation had happened in canon, Minor Violence, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), so I wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28119510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalKitten/pseuds/MusicalKitten
Summary: When Byleth attempts a drastic measure to prevent Dimitri from leading their army down a dangerous path, she finds her loyalties called into question.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth & Gilbert Pronislav
Comments: 11
Kudos: 25





	Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic for FE3H, and it took me entirely too long to finish, lol. But I can't wait to write more in the future! Many thanks to prototyping and minimi from the Dimileth discord for looking this over for me, you're both very kind.

The afternoon was growing long as the war council drew to a close. It had been a frustrating affair with little decided; tensions were running high at the idea of fending off a second Imperial incursion, and aside from a vague proposal to request aid from Fraldarius territory, the group had yet to settle on their next course of action. Dimitri in particular would hear of no other plan besides a march to Enbarr, and by the time the others began to filter out of the meeting room, Byleth felt terribly worn down. As soon as it seemed no one was looking, she propped her elbows on the table in front of her and massaged her forehead and temples with her fingers. Though the meeting was over, there was one more conversation she needed to steel herself for. It was one that she’d desperately wanted to avoid, but the events of the past two days made it clear that waiting this out would do more harm than good.

“Are you well, Professor?” 

Gilbert’s voice hovered somewhere above her right shoulder, and Byleth decided to take the opportunity while she had it. With the quietest sigh she could manage, she rose from her chair at the head of the table and cast her gaze around the room to see a few people still lingering; Ingrid and Seteth having an involved discussion in the corner, Felix, who appeared to be meeting with one of their intelligence officers but kept throwing glances in her direction. It would have to be somewhere else.

“May I have a word with you?” she asked Gilbert. “In private.”

***

Byleth led them to the third floor, into a small sitting room attached to the archbishop’s quarters. Privacy was not always easy to come by in a place with as many inhabitants as Garreg Mach, but she’d found in the weeks since their return that hardly anyone came up here; whether out of respect or fear of Rhea, it was hard to say. Though she had been granted free access to this space as the acting head of the church, Byleth felt disinclined to make use of it, since she preferred her old quarters. As a clandestine meeting place, however, it would do just fine.

Gilbert glanced around the room as they entered, the frown lines at his mouth and creases on his brow more prominent than usual, and remained standing even when they came to a stop in front of a pair of dusty lounge chairs. “I...suppose this is private enough,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “Very well. What is it you wish to speak of?”

“Allow me to be blunt,” Byleth began, attempting to keep her voice steady despite her frustration. “Dimitri is not fit to command this army.”

“Professor - “ Gilbert started, his eyes widening predictably in alarm, but Byleth cut him off.

“And before you object, know that I only say this out of the highest concern for him. He barely eats or sleeps, won’t allow us to tend his wounds, and seems to be having trouble discerning reality from his delusions. Yet you expect him to lead a war in this state?” 

A pained expression crossed Gilbert’s face. “We have little choice. I am well aware of his condition, but the fact remains that he is the crown prince of Faerghus. That he yet lives and breathes is the banner under which our army and our Kingdom unites.”

Gilbert’s words curdled in her stomach, the anger swelling within making her feel sick. “Then he is only a figurehead?” She hadn’t raised her voice, but her tone was sharp and clipped. Byleth wondered vaguely if she was letting her emotions get the better of her, because she had scarcely felt this angry before. 

Gilbert looked past her, avoiding eye contact. “An...uncharitable way of putting it, but that is the reality of the situation. A ruler must act as a beacon of hope in times of crisis...such is his duty.” He turned to meet her eye, with some hesitation. “It is my hope that with enough steadfast support from his friends and advisors, he will come to see the error of his ways.”

Byleth hardened her gaze. “Oh? And just how soon do you think that will happen? Perhaps your last few conversations with him have gone better than mine did.”

Gilbert looked away again, shame spreading on his features. “What else are we to do?” he asked, the tenor of his voice almost pleading. “If only we can guide him…”

She shook her head. “This situation isn’t tenable, Gilbert. As much as I want to lead him away from this path he’s on, we are at war. We don’t have the luxury of time to sit around waiting for him to come to his senses.” She pressed her lips together, knowing what she said next would be met with resistance. “Someone needs to take over as provisional general, so they can focus on leading the army while we try to help Dimitri.”

“That simply isn’t possible, Professor. He is the rightful heir to Faerghus’s throne. He must be the one to lead the charge.” He bowed his head solemnly, holding his hands behind his back. “In any case, as a knight, it is not my duty to challenge him, to but follow and protect him.”

It was obvious by now that she was fighting a losing battle, but it had been a long day already full of concessions, and Byleth was tired of losing. “Tell me,” she seethed, dropping her last air of professionalism and giving into her pettiness, “how are you protecting him by allowing him to run rampant with an army at his disposal? By agreeing to let him lead us to Enbarr, knowing full well we don’t have the resources to launch such an attack?”

“Even if we were to remove him from command, we have no guarantee he would not head for Enbarr on his own. And how would we stop him? He is stronger alone than ten men.” Gilbert heaved a defeated sigh. “No, it is far better to chaperone him as we pursue victory.”

“As he pursues his bloody revenge, you mean.”

Gilbert opened his mouth to respond, but abruptly froze in place, his eyes locked on a point somewhere behind her. Byleth barely had time to register the change in his expression before she realized what caused it.

“I thought I smelled a rat.”

At those words, Byleth felt a chill run down her spine. She turned slowly, craning her neck up to meet his eyes as she faced him.

Dimitri towered over the both of them like a stormcloud looming on the horizon, his arms crossed and an indignant glare in his remaining eye. Byleth wasn’t entirely sure how he’d snuck up without them hearing him; Dimitri was less a man now than a force of nature, surging through the monastery and the battlefield like a brushfire, with no thought to what disorder or devastation he left behind him. She supposed living on the run for the better part of the last five years had taught him to move quietly when it mattered.

But force of nature or no, she didn’t fear him, and she refused to let him intimidate her. She held his furious gaze with her own neutral stare, allowing nothing to show on her face. If there was one thing she had come to understand about this new Dimitri, it was that displays of emotion only served to provoke him.

“I figured you’d grow tired of your little act eventually, Professor,” he drawled. Where her title had once been a mark of respect from him, it now rolled derisively off his tongue each time he said it. “Pretending to care for a beast such as me. It was only a matter of time until you saw the reality and turned traitor.”

“What are you doing here, Dimitri?” she asked, ignoring his accusation.

He uncrossed his arms and began to pace slowly back and forth in front of the door like a giant panther, his eye never leaving her face. “I thought it strange how adamantly you were opposed to taking Enbarr, given your current position of power within the church. Were you not Rhea’s little pet during your time at the academy? Surely you would want to see her safe return.” 

Byleth felt a twinge of resentment at his words. She had never asked for Rhea’s favor, and her suspicion towards the woman had only grown as that year wore on. She had accepted her duty to the church out of care for her students and the others living at the monastery, not out of love for Rhea. Any desire Byleth had to see her again was only so that Rhea could give her the answers she was so clearly keeping hidden; answers Byleth felt she was owed. Of course, none of these thoughts were ones she could voice safely anywhere within the monastery walls, so she was forced to hold her tongue and let him continue.

“But it would make sense to draw us away from Enbarr if you were working for the Empire. So I followed you, to see what you were planning behind my back.” Dimitri came to a stop before the nearby window, the angle of the light streaming through casting his haggard face into deep shadow. “And here I find you, arguing to remove me from my command...conspiring with one of my own kingdom’s so-called knights, no less.”

“Your Highness, I would agree to no such thing,” Gilbert said vehemently. “I’m afraid you misunderstand. We are only concerned that you are pushing yourself beyond your limits.”

Dimitri’s eye narrowed. “Enough so that you entertain plans to usurp me?”

Gilbert stepped in front of Byleth, placing himself between her and Dimitri in what seemed like a halfhearted effort to shield her. “Not at all. Professor Byleth’s only intention was to allow you some time to recuperate from the ordeals you have endured - “

“What I have endured is nothing compared to the torture the dead suffer as their regrets go unfulfilled!” Dimitri roared. His mood had shifted rapidly, his fury like a sudden squall on a calm day. “I won’t be taken in by such foolishness...no, it is all too clear that you are an agent of the Empire.”

His attention was on Byleth now. He brushed past Gilbert as though he wasn’t even there, and Byleth found herself backing up instinctively as Dimitri invaded her space.

“You think to replace me as general, and in doing so, turn our course even further from Edelgard,” he growled as he lurched forward. “But the dead cry out for justice, and the longer that woman breathes, the louder their screams become! I will not deny them any longer, and I will not suffer traitors, or any fools who would stand in my way.”

It was hard to know whether Dimitri spoke from the heart, or if this paranoia was spurred on by his delusions, but the accusation stung either way. Byleth forced herself to come to a stop in order to try and hold her ground, but he had already cornered her against a wall. She fought to keep her eye contact with him from twisting into a glare. Her emotionless mask was starting to slip, and she knew things would only turn uglier if she couldn’t keep it together.

“What makes you think I would ever side with the Empire over you?” she asked. “After everything we’ve been through together?”

She realized, too late, that it was the wrong thing to say. Dimitri laughed, short and toneless.

“How would I know? Five years is an awfully long time to be ‘asleep’, don’t you think?” He eyed her up and down, as though seeing her for the first time. “Much could have happened in that time, and everyone has changed except you. How convenient.”

She was losing too much ground. There was little chance of convincing him at this point, but Byleth felt she had to try. “If you can see I haven’t changed, then you must know my loyalties haven’t changed, either.”

“When Fhirdiad was taken, I was betrayed by those I’ve known far longer than you.” For a moment, his gaze was distant, haunted; he looked more exhausted than Byleth had ever seen him. “I know well what my so-called allies’ loyalty is worth. And yours is no more than I should expect from a born-and-raised mercenary.”

So this was what he really thought of her. Byleth struggled for some response, but the shock of hearing such words from someone she'd once considered a close friend left her speechless. Not that it mattered; either way, Dimitri had apparently made up his mind.

“Now the only question remaining is what to do with you.” He smiled nastily, the upturned corner of his mouth baring his teeth. “A shame you stopped me from doling out justice to that Imperial dog, or you might have had an idea of what to expect.”

It was too much. She was furious at Dimitri for threatening her like this, furious at Gilbert for failing to intercede. But most of all, she was furious at herself for ever allowing things to come this far. She’d reached the end of her rope. If Dimitri could no longer be swayed through logic or emotion, actions were the only route left to her.

Before Dimitri had a chance to react, she drew the dagger from her belt and cast it at his feet; he jerked backwards in surprise as it bounced off the toe of his boot and skidded to a stop in front of him. She felt her jaw tighten as she gave up trying to hide the anguish from her expression.

“If you truly believe I’ve turned traitor, that I’ve failed you,” she said, her eyes locked onto Dimitri’s stunned face, “then kill me. Right now.” She took a step forward and spread her arms at her sides in a show of surrender.

A tense silence settled between them, filled only by a ringing in her ears left over from the dagger’s impact with the floor, and Dimitri’s unusually heavy breathing. Wide-eyed, his gaze darted rapidly between her and the dagger. His mind raced visibly, a dozen subtle shifts in his expression betraying his inner turmoil. He became more agitated by the minute, fists clenching and unclenching as though he longed for the grasp of a lance. Gilbert stood some ways behind him, rooted to the spot, looking horrified.

And then, without warning, Dimitri made his move. He strode toward Byleth with purpose, his face pinched into a sneer. Gilbert blurted “Your Highness, please wait!” and rushed for him with an outstretched arm, but was too slow. Dimitri raised a massive, gauntleted hand and slammed it into the wall, right next to Byleth’s head. The stone crumpled where his fist made its impact, tiny chips flaking off and falling to the ground. Byleth stood rigid as Dimitri hunched over until his face was inches from hers, his unkempt bangs jaggedly framing his eye.

“You’ll live today, because I can still make use of you,” he said venomously, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “But mark my words, Professor. Stand between me and Edelgard, and I _will_ destroy you.”

He stood straight and pushed away from the wall, stalking out of the room without looking back. Neither Gilbert nor Byleth dared move an inch until long after the sound of his footsteps had faded completely.

Her ears still ringing, Byleth forced her feet to move and dropped into the nearest lounge chair, her knees trembling slightly as the adrenaline left her body. 

“Professor…” Gilbert hurried to her side, looking sheepish. “Are you all right? I’m so terribly sorry…I should have done more to curb his temper.”

She put her head in her hands. “We really can’t stop him, can we?” she said softly. 

“No...I don’t believe we can.”

That steady realization gripped her heart with fear. She failed him five years ago by disappearing without a trace at the very start of the war, when he could have used her support the most. And she was failing him again now - not only him, but the rest of her students, as well. How was she supposed to stop Dimitri from destroying himself and taking the rest of them down with him?

“I must ask, however…” She lifted her head, surprised to see Gilbert glaring sternly at her. “What in the world were you thinking, provoking him like that? His actions are so unpredictable right now; there’s no telling what he might have done.”

Byleth looked away. “He offered me a similar choice the other day. It only seemed fair for me to do the same.”

Gilbert looked stunned. “Are you saying...he told you to kill him?”

“Something like that.” She huffed softly. “He called my bluff, so I decided to call his. And...it seems I was right.”

The two of them were silent for another long moment. The glow from the setting sun filtered in through the stained glass window nearby, painting vivid orange-tinted pictures across the room. If Byleth spread her hands, she could hold the blurred image of the goddess Sothis in her palms.

“Professor,” Gilbert started hesitantly. “I know this is not the outcome you desired. And I know there are some points on which the two of us disagree. But please…” He looked straight at her, his tone as pleading as it had been before. “Help me to protect Dimitri. I failed to do so in the past, and now...I fear I cannot do it alone.”

Byleth stared up at him briefly, feeling some of her frustration toward him washing away as it dawned on her just how similar their situations were. She was no better than him; she never had been. 

She nodded. “I’m not going anywhere. I care for him, too.” She looked back down at her hands. “I care for all of them.”

Gilbert conjured a small smile, and bowed. “Thank you, Professor. Truly. If there is nothing else you wish to discuss, perhaps I could take my leave? I must prepare our message to Rodrigue.”

Byleth nodded again and watched the far wall as he left the room, listening to his retreating steps, and then the lonely calls of the birds outside as twilight set in.

The past two days’ events played over and over again in her mind as she tried in vain to think of what she could have done differently. The war might still be won with careful planning and brilliant tactics, but as for how to handle her wayward former student, the path forward was less than clear. Whatever Gilbert thought, the ghosts plaguing Dimitri weren't likely to be chased away by well-meaning conversation. She doubted that his madness would disappear so easily, even if he severed Edelgard's head tomorrow.

And yet...the day before, Dimitri - who claimed he no longer cared about the living - warned her of an incoming attack during the battle. And today, though he'd seemingly convinced himself that she was a spy, he refused to kill her.

A tiny ember had begun to glow within her; still too small and dim to be called a flame of hope, but she felt its dull burn all the same. The Dimitri she knew was still there, somewhere, even if he was buried under a mountain of corpses demanding blood and warped by five long years of isolation and hardship. It was less a hope than a feeling, a flare of intuition after having spent a year living and fighting alongside him. But it was something to hold onto all the same.

Byleth stood and left as the room grew darker with the fall of dusk. She felt tired enough to sleep for another five years, but there was still much to do before she could turn in for the night. If she couldn't protect Dimitri by removing him from the battlefield, then she would keep him safe while they were on it, and that started with doing whatever necessary to keep their fledgling resistance running smoothly.

One of the hardest lessons she'd learned as a teacher was how to let her students make their own mistakes, how to let them fall so they could learn to pick themselves back up, and when to offer a hand when they truly needed it. It was a fine line to walk when the stakes were life and death, but Byleth could see that was where she and Dimitri stood now. Their time as student and professor had come to an end, and there was little more she could do than stand back, watch him make his mistakes, and offer him her hand to pull him back to his feet.

He wasn't ready to take it yet. But maybe someday, he would. 


End file.
